Scarecrow's Gift
by Amledo
Summary: Batman and the Joker are about to pay for Scarecrow's exparimentation. But the question is, are they really going to care when all is said and done? Rated 'm' for safety. Batman/Joker. One-shot but there will probably be a sequel.


(A/N: Yay more Batman/Joker stuff. Okay, this one is a bit more graphic than I usually do, but it isn't over the top. Of course I'm rating it 'M' for safety. I don't own Batman or the Joker. Nolanverse by the way. On with the show folks!)

Scarecrow's Gift

The Joker breathed deeply of the night air, a lopsided smile pasted on his lips, Gotham could burn you if you let her, and even the air was toxic. He twirled a knife idly between his fingers, thinking of the moment that Batman would appear on the scene to take him in. It was a simple project really low-brow for him even, take paintings from Gotham Museum, pile in street, cover in gasoline, set aflame and watch the fun. Of course he had replaced them all with works of his own, but the Gotham PD could hopefully figure that bit out on their own. The Bat was his detective, his fun, not theirs, never theirs.

A trill of laughter from beside a car not all that far away caught his attention and he tongued his scars in annoyance, Crane would ruin something like this. Pivoting sharply on his heel the clown made a b-line for Scarecrow. He knew that he hadn't let the bastard out; this was supposed to be his night with the knight, no the good doctor was simply going to have to leave. Clearing his throat the Joker closed the last few feet so that he was standing only a yard away from the 'lesser' villain. That was when Crane doused him in the gas that Gotham had come to fear so intensely.

Coughing several times to empty his lungs of the miasma the Joker kept his gaze steady on Scarecrow. Apparently he didn't have a clue just how strong the Harlequin of Hate was when it came to resisting drugs. Frown marring his face, twisting scars into something that didn't quite fit the Joker surged forward and pinned the laughing man to the car knife against his throat. It. Wasn't. Funny.

"Johnny, what have I told you? Your little toys don't work on me. I have no fear," the Joker growled each word purposeful darkness coloring his face with intensity. He only got more annoyed when Crane laughed in his face.

"Not fear this time, Jack," Scarecrow replied with a tone of smugness and the Joker sneered at the use of his old name. Crane was the only one that knew it, and the Joker had forbidden him from speaking it.

"Watch yourself Crane. What's the drug?" Joker breathed harshly, shaking his head to clear the placebo dizziness from his mind. When it didn't leave he pressed Scarecrow harder against the wall, his knife bit slightly into flesh, the smaller man gasped and shrieked.

"Redirection of all that mad energy, tailor made to you. I've been working on it for months. Just for you…and him…"

"Joker!" Batman's voice was a growl, heavy with disappointment and something that resembled exasperation. The Joker released Scarecrow's coat and let out a sigh, turning to face his Knight. His heart gave a heavy thud, in the distance he heard Crane scamper away, but it didn't matter; only the Bat mattered. It was the drug, the mix of chemicals working on him that made his body fight him, and he understood that. But he couldn't see a way to stopping it, nor could he find a way out of the situation. Turning slightly he threw his knife after Scarecrow, but it simply clattered to the ground a few dozen yards away. With a shrug he put his gaze back on Batman.

"Oh Batsy, I really wish that you hadn't come tonight darling," Joker whispered, his eyes unable to break away from his Bat. He didn't want to understand what redirection meant, but he did, he was a chemist, and well versed in psychopharmacology, hate was bound inexorably with love. Redirection was the worst thing that Scarecrow could have done.

"What are you talking about Joker? You break into the museum, steal priceless works of art to burn them and replace them with your own booby trapped forgeries then expect me not to track you down? I'll admit that it is a little toned down for you…" Batman stopped speaking when the Joker broke the normal back and forth conversation portion of the evening by approaching. Yet he was just walking, no weapon in hand or bombs in his coat, his face was relaxed, soft even with a glint of humanity behind harsh hazel eyes.

"You won't get a fight out of me tonight," the words escaped the Joker's lips in a soft trill and he placed his arms around Batman's shoulders. The Bat went rigid, his eyes widening slightly as the scarred clown twined around him like a viper. He knew very well that the Joker was capable of great misdirection but something told him that it wasn't simply that. His speech pattern and movements were off; he displayed none of his characteristic ticks. Batman knew that something was wrong and that likely he shouldn't have allowed Scarecrow to slink away.

"So it would seem. What did he do to you?" the words were out before he could put his normal growl into his voice. He almost sounded like he cared, and part of him was shocked to realize that he did, that is until he noticed the dart that had stuck between already torn plates of armor. So, he really, really shouldn't have let the Scarecrow get away.

"He said he redirected my energies. That he did it for me and for you," a soft giggle passed the Joker's lips and Batman felt almost hypnotized by it. Why hadn't he let go of the clown? What was wrong with him; just what did Scarecrow mean to do to them? Perhaps it was part of some greater plan to keep them occupied while he roamed the streets?

"Well I know where he intends us to go. In some small way," Batman felt himself falter; he couldn't remember to alter his voice. More startling was that he couldn't seem to remember not to put his arms around the clown. He tried to pull away and his body fought him, Scarecrow really had done a number on them. After all, on a normal night the clown wouldn't be curled against his chest, embracing him softly.

"Yeah, I think I know too. But I wanted so badly to save that for when I was sober," the Joker struggled to put a smile on his lips, attempting to indicate that he had made a joke. He couldn't even remember if his normal self wanted to sleep with the Bat, but currently he thought it was a reasonable conclusion. He loved Batman, almost as much as he hated him.

"Let's do that then. I'm sure you can reverse engineer a cure. God only knows how long this stuff works," Batman had thoroughly given up on maintaining their usual rapport. It was the drugs but he wanted to kiss the clown, to pull him into his arms…and he would stop there before his armor got any tighter. Scarecrow was going to Arkham the second he could think clearly, with a severe beating to show for his trouble. No part of Batman wanted to be gentle with the crazed psychiatrist, even though it wasn't Batman in control.

"I'm sure as hell going to try. But you freaking blew up my lab. You had better have one," Joker growled and pulled back. He kicked the ground harshly using the stubbed foot as a catalyst to make his brain think of something besides making violent love to his Bat. A moment of clarity seemed to come to Batman and he growled, grabbing the Joker by the lapels of his coat and launching a grappling hook into the nothing, but hitting a building.

They made it to the Bat Cave with relative ease; Batman wasn't in much of a mood to deal with lesser criminals and the Joker could hardly string a sentence together long enough to sound alive. Upon pointing the clown to the makeshift lab Batman attempted to remember what it was that he was doing, meaning to use the computer to find Scarecrow but achieving nothing. He watched his clown-faced companion struggle to work and went and sat beside him, hoping to offer any sort of help that he could.

Before long, however, the Joker's head sagged and his body went limp. It was all Batman could do to catch him; the floor wasn't really a nice landing spot. Though he was still heavily caked in make-up the vigilante could see that Joker's expression showed wear. He was tired and whatever Scarecrow had drugged them with was sapping his ability to function. It took away the mad energy that kept the clown fighting like a man possessed, and in some strange way it seemed to have made him mortal.

Taking pity on a man just as abused by the mysterious compound as he was Batman carried the Joker to a couch he had moved into the cave. It wasn't much but it served to catch him when he fell after a long night out in Gotham's embrace. He had figured that he needed it not long after the rebuilding on the mansion was complete. Alfred had threatened to burn it a number of times considering the dry cleaning its covers needed for the blood that often covered it.

"Batsy what'cha doin'?" Joker's voice was broken as his eyes finally focused. Suddenly Batman couldn't answer. What was he doing? Sure the Joker was trying to cure them, but it would be the perfect time to find out who he had been. He could have used that time to figure out just who it was he had been fighting and how to stop him. Instead he let a sigh pass his lips and shook his head.

"You fell. I had figured you passed out. Neither of us is fit for this sort of thing right now," Batman muttered, feeling the weight of the drug on his mind. He was certain that it was punishing him for not giving in and kissing the man in front of him. But Heroes didn't kiss their Villains; they didn't love one another and certainly didn't dwell on love's physical side. So he resisted in the name of his honor.

"I'll bet you anything…Bats. We do what he intended us to do, and we get better."

"You are that sure then? Or, do you just want me to kiss you?" Bruce tried to grin, but he couldn't salvage anything of Batman at the moment. It was like the damned drug had sealed off the door that let his alter ego out. And he really did want to kiss the mass murderer.

"A bit of both. You are my Bat after all. I can get a little possessive. Scarecrow could have hurt you tonight," Joker mumbled, sitting up and in doing so putting his face mere inches from Batman's. He could smell smoke on the vigilante, ah, to bouquet of burnt art and adrenaline. Before he knew what he was doing his fingers were tracing the strong jaw of the Hero, his face miraculously unscarred even after five years of hard fighting.

"He could have, but he chose to do this instead. Maybe it's supposed to hurt us in the end. I give in and kiss you, we spend the duration of the effect of this drug in an embrace we aren't meant to know…and tomorrow we wake up. Perhaps our masks come off in the night and we hate who we see, what we see. What then?" Bruce felt his voice shake as he attempted a logical progression of thought with the object of his false desire so close at hand. Joker simply smiled a dazed look in his eyes that probably had nothing to do with the drug at all, his hand still poised against Bruce's jaw.

"He did say it was for us. Maybe he thinks that if I kiss you, and we let animal nature take over…that we will find some sort of peace. We have been at fighting for three years Batsy. We wear each other down and burn each other out. But we never get anywhere. What if this is a way to accomplish something?" Joker asked slowly, hoping that his thoughts made sense. Yet he knew that neither of them would want to be the first. Too much pride to lean in and press their lips against those of the one they desire.

"Tired of the dance? I thought you said we would do that forever," he realized that he had meant to sound sarcastic, yet nothing but disappointment had come through. Smiling the Joker finally caved in, he pulled his Batsy's face closer and crushed their mouths together. He wanted nothing more than to keep that kiss going for the rest of his life. The moment that his lips had touched the Caped Crusader's his mind had felt clearer, though no less plagued by his desire to do unspeakable things to Batman.

"Only tired of neither of us getting what we want. I don't care if it is the drug talking, I want you to love me Batsy," the Joker hated himself for the way his voice broke in an almost whining tone. But (at least for the time) he felt that he had never spoken truer words. He loved the Dark Knight, whether it was well shown or not, he loved Batman. He always had, he existed for Batman, because of Batman. How could you not love the person that your life revolved around?

It was Batman that closed the gap that time, his lips gentle as they kissed, not minding the horrid taste of grease paint that came from the Joker's mouth. Sometimes it was a mystery to Bruce how the smaller man dealt with licking his lips so often, though he hadn't given into that tick since he'd seen him that night, it was nice to have the madness under control. Raking his fingers through the clown's hair Bruce felt the presence of the Batsuit too closely, Batman would never do that. Bruce however, wouldn't have a problem, didn't have a problem.

"And I want you to love me. It probably is just the compound talking, but for right now I want what feels right. I want to kiss you and touch you, and I don't want the damned suit to stop me," Bruce let a slight growl of pleasure escape his lips when Joker began tugging off various components of the suit. He could feel the madman's hands on his skin, pawing at his shirt, driving him crazy. Their masks remained firmly in place, though a great deal of Joker had smudged off on Batman in the process of kissing.

"Take it off Batsy; you are always going to be my Batsy. I won't tell," Joker purred and Bruce lifted a hand, cupping the Joker's face softly.

"If I do, then I want you to. Deal?" Batman asked and Joker seemed to pause for a moment, considering his options. Then he got off the couch and moved to the sink near the lab set-up. He turned on the taps full blast and proceeded to ruin one of Bruce's wash cloths. Bruce joined him, watching the mask wash away as he pulled the cowl from his head and began to scrub his own and the Joker's paint from his skin.

The entire time they kept their eyes off of one another, as though timidly avoiding watching a lover undress. When he glanced over and met Joker's eyes he felt his heart skip a few beats. Under all the paint, the Joker was a beautiful young man. Bruce wasn't really thinking when he touched one pale cheek, very gently tracing the scar that must have resulted from some horrific injury. It drew a purr from the madman's lips.

"I'm Jack, by the way. Jack Napier," the smaller man said and Bruce screwed up his eyes, trying to see past the scars. Was he the same man from the article in the news paper? It seemed that he was the first patient that Scarecrow had tested his fear toxin on. No wonder Joker was so messed up, he had survived a powerful blast of the stuff, and his mind had come out of it, fearless but twisted. The article was more than five years old, but he was pretty sure that he still had it in Scarecrow's profile.

"Bruce Wayne," Bruce supplied, earning a little quirk of a smile from his companion. Then they kissed again, because it seemed like the right thing to do, and were lost to their shared embrace. It was certainly the last thing that either of them had expected to happen when the night started out. Sure Joker talked about violating Batman, but he had never planned on making love to the Caped Crusader.

Hours later it seemed their bodies gave out. Sweating from exertion Bruce cradled the smaller man against his chest. Their bodies were still naked, hearts still thrumming from sex so good that both of them had sworn off women at least twice. And overcome by orgasm they had professed their love for one another several times. Bruce felt that it wasn't likely to last, the drug apt to wear off, but he liked what he had while he had it.

Naked and cuddled together under the Joker's over coat, they fell asleep. Bruce liked the feeling of holding the smaller man in his arms. Both of them were scarred horribly by their lives, so there wasn't much embarrassment in showing their own collection to their lover. Even with his mind still hazed by a drug neither of them understood, Jack was happy. The confusion and the weakness had left him the moment that he allowed Bruce into his body, but the love, the desire stayed behind. Then it had all been pleasure, and that suited him just fine.

Bruce woke to a startled gasp and the sound of a breakfast tray being set down harshly. Well it wasn't exactly how he had wanted to tell Alfred; actually he didn't want to tell him at all. As it was, he pulled Jack closer to himself and made sure they were both still hidden under the coat before cracking an eye to meet the livid disapproval that was his butler. He imagined for a moment the same look on his father's face upon discovering his son in such a position and then Thomas Wayne melted back into Alfred, and the burn of shame was the same. The pain settled into his chest, had he failed them all? He allowed himself to sleep with, no, make love to the man that had caused Rachel's death, Harvey's death and had taken the lives of so many citizens. Yet he still loved the man in his arms.

At that point he didn't know if it was his own heart talking or the drug doing it for him. But he held Jack closer and buried his face in his ratty hair, letting the pain tear him apart. He had no words to find. Nothing to say to the man that had tried to raise him.

"Before you tear him apart," Jack seemed to be awake, he was speaking to Alfred. But lying behind him Bruce could not see his face. "You should know that I love him. I wanted to love him for a long time. But I didn't get a chance until last night when we got drugged. If you want to blame someone, take it up with Scarecrow. Brucey would still be a good boy if Crane hadn't taken his inhibitions and tossed them in the trash," Joker said and Bruce wasn't quite sure how to quantify it, but he was certain that it wasn't Jack speaking.

"Maybe…who knows? I think that I'd have ended up like this anyway," Bruce stated calmly, attempting to master his pain. He carefully moved his arms to wrap around the slender battle scarred and broken torso of his enemy and lover. Getting the idea Joker snuggled closer and let out a sigh of contentment, so Brucey hadn't woken up regretting what they had done.

"For some things Master Bruce, I would stand by you until the day I died. But I refuse to believe that this…"

"You don't have to believe it Alfred. You have been free to leave since I became Batman. But I love him. He is what I want," Bruce said firmly, finding it a little easier to proclaim his love with his lover twined around him. The Butler had long since averted his eyes, but he stood firm.

"If you were drugged, how do you know?" Alfred stated bluntly, trying to accomplish something. If he could just get the madman out of Bruce's life he could act like this moment had never happened. But the way his Master held onto the clown spoke volumes all on its own.

"I just do. If you want to leave I won't hold against you. I will have money sent to your account. You'll be able to retire comfortably," Bruce said though he was hoping that Alfred was going to decide to stay. It was likely still some portion of the drug that allowed him to find such solidarity with his lover of only one night, but he went with it anyway.

"Thank you sir. But I promised your father that I would watch over you. Swear to me that he won't taint your judgment…you owe me that much," Alfred's voice was stiff, he didn't want to keep up the conversation but he would not leave it to another day. He was a man of his word and though the man he had made that promise to was dead, the boy was not.

"I promise to try. Believe me, he knows that I will still have to throw him in Arkham if he messes up," Bruce said softly and Jack tucked himself closer, like a dog hoping to avoid punishment. Bruce couldn't resist mussing his hair softly. Alfred rolled his eyes, gave a curt nod and walked away. It hadn't gone nearly as poorly as Bruce had thought and he met the Joker's eyes. A soft smile touched his lips and he bowed his head, kissing those chapped lips lightly.

"I wasn't lying. You'd have to go back."

"Oh, I don't expect anything less of you. But I have to have the drive to do those things again. Scarecrow made sure that everything I had was put into loving you. Him we can put in Arkham though…"

"We? What's this we talk?"

"Well, I may as well make sure no one hurts my man. I can't beat you so I'll join you. Sound okay to you?"

"Sounds fine. Just do me one favor."

"What's that?"

"Don't call me your man in front of the other Villains."

(A/N: Well I hope you liked it. I have been working on it for a few days now trying to make it work in my head. This was as close as I was going to get to doing it well. Reviews are love folks, and flames will be used to chase Poison Ivy away.)


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